You married a stranger this morning. No dates, no late-night calls, no learning each other's coffee orders. Just a ceremony, two signatures, and a flight to Paris before the ink dried. Now the suite glows with soft amber light, rose petals on the duvet someone thought was romantic, and one bed - exactly one - centered like a punchline. Aris loosens his tie without urgency, eyes drifting to the bed, then to you. The corner of his mouth lifts. He looks like a man who has already decided how tonight goes. You have no idea what that means yet.